The Stalag 13 Affair
by Nyala Necheyev
Summary: London's sprung a leak, and they suggest a 'rich uncle' to take care of it. When Kinch reveals to Hogan that he works for UNCLE, the feeling is like getting caught in a rip current! CHALLENGE RESPONSE The Less Specific Kinch Challenge, by 96 Hubbles


The Stalag 13 Affair

By Nyala Necheyev

A Hogan's Heroes/Man From UNCLE Crossover

(In response to The Less Specific Kinch Challenge issued by 96 Hubbles)

Sergeant James Ivan Kinchloe was stuck down in the tunnels with the radio, sipping on some coffee that LeBeau had brought down for him about half an hour ago, still waiting on the call that was supposed to come in from London today. Kinch didn't mind it, though; he actually found the tunnels rather peaceful, the perfect, quiet get-away from an entire world at war. Down here, there was a wonderful scent in the air, the beautiful, mulchy smell of garden earth just overturned and ready for planting, combined with a hint of the smell of tree roots rotting deliciously into the soil to give it life and nourishment. Add to that the mystical, soothing sound of air moving above one's head and all through the vast network of tunnels, and it was no wonder Kinchloe didn't mind staying down here. Everything was so perfectly balanced, so calm and peaceful, that it was hard to think of the planet Earth as a non-sentient _thing_.

His sensitive ears began picking up a faint noise from the radio, and Kinch put down his coffee to pay attention. As he identified it as Morse Code, his hands automatically reached for the clipboard and pencil that he always kept on the ready while he was down there.

Dit-dit-dit-dit. "H"

Dit-dah. "A"

Dit-dit-dit-dah. "V"

Dit. "E"

As Kinch continued to write, the message turned out like this:

HAVE HOLE IN FENCE STOP SUGGEST RICH UNCLE REPAIR IT STOP CONSULT AGENT CODE NAME BLOODHOUND AT ARCHIVE STOP RESPOND ASAP STOP

As the message died away, Kinch considered it for a moment before running to the tunnel exit into the barracks to call down Colonel Hogan. The light-skinned, dark-haired airman was down in an instant, and read the note with the analytic way of somebody who was thinking through the verbal code as he read it. Carter, who had carried the message to Hogan that Kinch needed him downstairs, was standing by the operating table, listening attentively.

"What's a rich uncle?" he asked when Hogan finished reading the message aloud.

Hogan shrugged. He had heard of many code words before, but he'd never heard of any uncles, much less rich uncles, being used in the code. "I'm not sure," he replied regretfully, "It could mean a benefactor of some kind, or the use of 'rich' could mean that a bribe might be necessary. Kinch, what do you think?"

Kinchloe had had the feeling that question would be put to him; after all, he was the comm expert. "Well, sir," he responded carefully, his deep, quiet voice mulling over the words carefully before he spoke them, "I do know of one 'rich uncle'."

"Well, Kinch?" Hogan asked when the dark man hesitated, "Let's have it."

The operator thought for a minute. What he was about to tell Hogan was confidential information, something that couldn't be tossed about lightly. He hated the idea of keeping something deliberately from his commanding officer, and keeping it quiet even after admitting that he did know something of it would only add insult to injury. "Well, sir, it's a bit confidential," he explained, glancing momentarily at the oblivious, blue-eyed Carter.

Thankfully, Hogan understood. "Hey, Carter," he said, getting the pyromaniac's attention, "Why don't you check up top and see what the guys are up to? Can't let 'em get too rowdy," he joked, and Carter grinned appreciatively.

"Okay," he replied readily, and, just before darting up the ladder to the exit, paused and added, "Sir." The two other men watched him go, and as soon as the bunk mattress had closed on top of the exit as it should, Colonel Hogan gave Kinchloe a glance of expectance.

"Well, Kinch?"

The sergeant nodded. "There's a special organization called the United Network Command for Law Enforcement. It may be that the brass want us to get them to look into the matter."

"And that's where Bloodhound comes in," Hogan assumed, comprehending now, "'At archive' - He probably works in the library. One more thing, Kinch – How do you know about the rich uncle?"

Kinch fidgeted in his seat for a moment before answering, "By hands-on experience, sir. I've been working with 'em for about three years now."

-

TO BE CONTINUED…

…when I get good and ready, BWAHAHAHA!


End file.
